


Eden

by orphan_account



Series: The Garden Collection [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky as a father, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, NATASHA ISN'T DEAD, Not Canon Compliant, but tony still is sorry, dad bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27701840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There's something in me, and that same something is in you. And I can't really name it, but I know it's there, and when I'm with you, it starts to make sense. Everything makes sense._________________________________With the world still dealing with the social, economic, and political fallout of the Snap and the Blip, Bucky Barnes tries to figure out life after healing, after leaving the past behind him. Or at least that's what he thought he was doing. Soon, he is confronted by the demons that had threatened to tear him apart completely, but this time, he's not fighting for his own life.He's fighting for hers.________________________________You don't have to read the first part to get the plot, I tried my best to write it that way. You might not get little things, but I'll explain in the notes, and you can always ask for clarification in the comments. But you should totally read the first part, for the full **emotional impact** lollOn temporary hiatus until I get my act together, sorry!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Avengers Team, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Shuri & T'Challa, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character of Color, James "Bucky" Barnes/Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: The Garden Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977871
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	1. paused

**Author's Note:**

> Things We Are Ignoring For the Purposes of This Story:
> 
> -Definitely ignoring the fact that Steve would just leave Bucky like that. Shameful.  
> -I have yet to see a satisfying explanation as to why Steve couldn't get Natasha back when he returned the soul stone. Soul for a soul, right? Also, I don't want her to be dead, so she's alive.  
> -This isn't important, but we are also ignoring the most unnecessary, un-titillating, no chemistry kiss in cinematic history between Steve and Sharon. Sis deserved better, smh. Dusted and all, and homeboy was still looking at that damn compass...  
> -Probably won't be WandaVision compliant since I started this before it came out
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, and feedback is always welcome! <3

2 0 1 5

_Bearhooke, Idaho_

_“This might as well be happening.”_

_She said it out loud even though she was the only one in her grandmother’s bathroom. It was 5 a.m. She didn’t need to be up that early, but she had read somewhere that the best time to take a pregnancy test was first thing in the morning. Something about a higher concentration of hormones during that time, she didn’t really know. All she knew was that she had spent close to a hundred dollars on those rapid test thingies that Mike’s sold. She could have just gone to the doctor (her copay would have cost less), but that would have made this too real somehow. Instead, she had woken up each day for the past week at around the same time and peed on a plastic stick. This was the fifth one, and like the others, it was positive._

_Mona sat on the edge of the tub and just stared at it. Those two lines were clear as day, not even faded in the slightest. She stared at them so long that she figured out that if she looked at them for the right amount of time, the lines would blur until they looked like one. But then her eyes would uncross and there they’d be again, like a tiny version of a yellow road divider._

_She sighed (she was doing that a lot these days) and placed it in a hidden corner of the cabinet under the sink, along with the other four. She didn’t know why she was saving them, it just felt necessary. She leaned on the sink with both her hands and stared at her reflection in the mirror._

_She didn’t really recognize herself._

_He had been gone for three weeks already. It was a short enough time that she could still tell herself he was coming back, but long enough for her to begin to realize that it was unlikely. The note he left was still under her pillow, as if she were waiting for the Bucky Fairy to come and bring him back to her._

_She hadn’t cried yet. She was waiting for it, she even tried to force herself to cry a few times, but nothing. She felt…paused. Like she was stuck between two moments and she couldn’t feel anything, completely anesthetized to everything happening around her._

_She jerked suddenly, feeling something building up from the bottom of her gut. Was this it? Was this the explosion of emotion she was expecting? She waited as it continued to build, and almost too late she realized what it was._

_She dove for the toilet and stuck her head in as dinner from the night before made its second debut.  
_


	2. New Year, New You

2 0 2 4

Esopus, NY

_New Year’s Eve_

Though Bucky would never admit it to Steve, he enjoyed running in the mornings. He always made sure he returned well before his best friend or the sun rose from hibernation because he knew if he tried to run with Steve, it would turn into a competition, and he really didn’t need that smug little punk interrupting his peace.

That’s what he enjoyed most about his runs, the peace. He would tie up his hair, lace up his shoes and head down by the trail where the compound overlooked the Hudson. He would begin at a lazy pace just to warm up and take everything in despite the lingering darkness. Lights from the compound and the houses across the river danced on its surface, replacing the stars that were already being erased from the sky. He could hear the gentle stir of the tide, the last minute crickets that were still singing for the night. He liked to focus on the sound of his own breathing (though he’d occasionally bring some music with him), and the muted pounding of his feet on the ground.

Speed was never a concern for him on these runs. He just enjoyed the cathartic rhythm of it, the steadiness that grounded his mind, even in the wake of those sleepless and haunting nights when his own darkness cast a shadow over him. This December morning, though, he had woken up feeling unsettled even though it had been a dreamless night. His muscles buzzed under his skin, vibrating with energy that begged to be released. He started off with his usual pace, but soon it grew harder and more determined as the trees and shoreline blurred on either side of him, and the horizon was the only thing he could focus on.

He was never one to test the limits of his abilities; he had nothing to prove and he didn’t exactly regard them as a badge of honor. Still, he kept pushing further and further, feeling a luxurious strain in his body as he kept running, his lungs crackling at their seams as he pushed them past what they knew.

Bucky didn’t realize how far he had gone until he saw the Brooklyn Bridge in the distance. With more effort than he expected, he slowed down to a stop, drenched in sweat and taking big, gasping breaths. He stood and watched as the sun peeked over the iconic landmark, the one that was a beacon of the place that made him, the same place that still felt so far away, even though he stood a breath away from it.

He internally groaned as he turned back in the direction he came; he hadn’t considered the return trip as carefully as he should have. He braced himself and ran back to the compound, albeit at a slightly slower pace. By the time he got back, the morning was in full bloom, the sky wide and bright and almost cloudless. He went straight back to his apartment and stripped nude at the door. He abandoned his clothes and went to his fridge, taking out a bottle of water and chugging it down in a matter of seconds. He made his way into the shower and let the steam build until the hot water began to run cold.

He got out and dried himself off, starting with his body and ending with his hair. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused as he ran the towel over his damp tresses. He took his right hand and lifted a few strands as if they were foreign to him, as if they weren’t part of him. He finished drying himself off and put on a t-shirt and sweatpants before grabbing the pair of scissors he had in one of his drawers. 

Bucky stood frozen in the bathroom mirror, telling himself that this was a good idea. He was poised with a handful of his hair in one hand, the scissors in the other, open and ready to snip right above his fist. This wasn’t the first time he had been in this position. It was something that had crossed his mind a few times before, but something always stopped him. 

_Just do it_. _It’s just hair_.

He took a deep breath, and as he let it out, he closed his fingers around the scissors and heard the definitive snip of his hair being severed from the rest of him. He stood there for a moment, looking at the damage in the mirror. He slowly brought down his hand and opened it, the dead strands hanging loosely across his palm. He tipped his hand over and watched as they fell bit by bit, finding their final resting place in the sink.

He looked up at his reflection again and moved his head side to side. It felt slightly imbalanced because of the sudden loss, but it felt good. He took another handful and cut it above his fist again, and again, and again. He did it until his entire head felt lighter, until it felt like he had finally shed a heavy weight he had been carrying around for the last year and a half since the Blip. Since 1944, really. He considered his reflection again and almost jumped at the sight of the jagged mess that was sticking out of his scalp. He needed reinforcements.

“Friday, could you tell Romanoff to come down here?”

“Right away, Sarge,” she replied in her light, robotic accent.

“Thank you, Friday,” he said. Wilson always made fun of him for using manners with the A.I., but he figured he would get the last laugh when she finally snapped and went on a killing spree and he was the only one spared. He secretly hoped Sam would be her first victim. He also made note that he was perhaps getting _too_ caught up with the catalog of sci-fi thrillers he had missed in the last few decades.

About ten minutes later, Bucky heard his door open and Natasha appeared in the bathroom doorway not long after. A look of mild surprise crossed her face as she took in the carnage in the sink and on the floor. She finally looked at Bucky himself and gave him one of her signature smirks.

“So we’re just going full-on 2007 now? Should I hide the umbrellas?”

He glared at her.

“You don’t even get that reference,” she said dismissively.

“Yes I do,” he insisted. “Vaguely. Will you please just help me out?”

Nat sighed and walked up to him, running a hand through his hair to triage the damage. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, turning to leave the bathroom. “You know, there are people you can hire for this sort of thing,” she reminded him over her shoulder.

“If I did that, how would you ever get to admire my pretty face?” Bucky retorted.

“I would live,” her voice assured him from somewhere out of sight. She returned a moment later with one of the stools from his kitchenette island and made him sit. “And you’re not pretty,” she added, giving his head a little shove.

Nat cleared the hair from the sink while she mumbled something in Russian about cleaning up after oneself, and Bucky rolled his eyes. She sectioned and parted and shaped until she was satisfied, and once that was done, she blow-dried and fluffed until she stood back and appreciated her handiwork.

“Huh, now you do look kind of pretty,” she said, turning the stool around so that Bucky could see his reflection again.

It was shorter, but Nat had kept enough length that it could still be parted, brown waves framing his face. She had left some height at the top, but nothing went past the top of his ears. He stared at himself and was reminded of a different time, a different version of himself.

“So?” she prompted.

“It looks good,” he said, turning in the chair to face her. He grinned. “Thank you Tasha.”

“Only Clint is allowed to call me that,” she said, brushing some stray hairs off his shoulders. “What about the beard?”

“I’m keeping it. It keeps my face warm,” he said.

It was Nat’s turn to roll her eyes, and she mumbled some more in Russian about hobo facial hair and trash can fires. “Steve ordered breakfast, it should be upstairs already, plus we have that briefing at 11,” she reminded him. “You gonna be there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, making sure his sarcasm was clearly heard. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

Nat ignored his derision. She glanced down at the debris on the floor. “I’m not helping you clean that up,” she informed him.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” Bucky told her. “Friday, release the Kraken!”

“Aye aye, Sarge!” Friday responded. A second later, the Roomba in the kitchen left its dock and doddered over to the bathroom, eating its way through the mess.

Natasha gave Bucky a dull look. “You and that robot have way too much fun,”

“You sound jealous,” he said with a smirk of his own.

She opened her mouth to say something but decided against it, sighing with exasperation. “Just get up to breakfast, Steve says he got your favorite.”

She left and Bucky changed into a fresh t-shirt and jeans. He gathered up his running clothes and put them in the hamper (he wasn’t a complete slob) before heading upstairs. He was on his way to the elevators when his phone lit up with an incoming video call.

“Happy New Year!” Shuri’s blithe voice rang out when he answered. “Are you ready to—great Bast, WHAT DID YOU DO?” the princess exclaimed when she fully took in his look.

Bucky shrugged. “I wanted something different,” he said, sliding a hand through his hair.

Shuri quietly mourned for a moment, remembering the time the super-soldier had allowed her to cornrow his luscious locks (she called him Vanilla Ice for three whole weeks afterwards). “You know, I dig it. New year, new you,” she said after getting over the initial shock.

Bucky cringed. “Please don’t say that,” he begged, pushing the call button. “Are you outside?”

“In fact, I am,” she said smugly. “You might recognize the place,” she adjusted her camera to reveal the terracotta hut behind her, the one he used to call home back in Wakanda. A wave of nostalgia hit him. “I thought my favorite one-armed assassin would like to know how his goats are faring.”

Bucky smiled brightly. “Are they behaving themselves?”

“No,” Shuri said plainly, giving side-eye to one of the goats off-screen. She adjusted her camera again so he could see part of his small herd. “Peggy got herself knocked up.”

“By who?!”

“We believe it was Timothy,” she said as he stepped into the elevator.

He shook his head. “He could never keep it in his pants.”

“You’re one to talk,” she muttered.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” she said too innocently. “So, are you ready to ring in 2025 tonight?” She started petting one of the goats that he recognized as Becca.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said warily.

“Oh cheer up, you sour puss,” she chastised him. “Any resolutions?”

“Talking to you less,” he said with a grin.

She feigned being hurt. “Well, we’ll just see who makes you another arm.”

They both laughed and wished each other a happy new year before signing off. Bucky stepped out of the elevator and rounded the corner into the common area where Steve, Nat, and Wanda were sitting at the table already, a profusion of take-out containers spread out before them. Bucky could already smell the pancakes. He took the seat right across from Wanda and gave her a nod hello. She grinned and flashed a peace sign at him. She raised her eyebrows at his hair, and he just shrugged casually, although he did feel a slight warmth tickle his neck. He searched through the containers until he found the pillowy golden-brown hotcakes he was itching for. 

“What did I say about homework at the breakfast table?” Nat purred at Steve, standing behind his chair and winding her arms around him while he poured over files. He reached up and grabbed her hand in his and placed a kiss in her palm without looking up.

“It’s for the briefing,” he muttered, turning a page.

“You’ve been looking over those for two whole days, I think you have them memorized,” she said. “Plus, I think Ross is going to do most of the talking anyway.”

Wanda made a dissatisfied noise. “That’s who’s coming today?”

“Yes, and we’re going to be cordial,” Steve said, glancing up at Wanda pointedly for a moment before returning back to the files. “He has some news about the Accords, and something else.”

The files that Steve was pouring over pertained to just that. After the initial chaos of the Blip and Tony’s death had settled down to a degree, Steve took it upon himself to shoulder the responsibilities that his friend left behind. He gathered the team back together for good, oversaw the rebuilding of the compound, and was handling all the behind-the-scenes operations that he took for granted before. That included dealing with the press and politics that came with the job. He didn’t mind though; he felt he owed it to Tony, and he considered it his penance for what happened when the Accords came around the first time. 

“Steven. Enough,” Natasha ordered, reaching over him and shutting the folder he was looking at. He sighed and looked up at her, fighting but losing to a grin that slowly spread on his face. She bent down and gave him a heated kiss that left little to the imagination, visible tongue and all.

“We’re trying to eat here,” Bucky said scowling.

“Then look away Barnes,” Nat said before diving in again. But he couldn’t look away. It was like witnessing a bad accident on the freeway. Except with more saliva.

“I feel like I’m watching my parents suck face,” Wanda said with a horrified expression.

“Nah, it’s too early for that,” Sam said as he walked in on the scene. He sat next to Bucky and began to dig into the food. Nat and Steve both laughed and finally broke apart to start eating. 

“For once, I agree with Wilson,” Bucky begrudgingly admitted.

Sam froze and dramatically held his chest as if he had gone into cardiac arrest. “Wow that felt weird. Remind me never to agree with you again,” he told Bucky before resuming his plate building.

Wanda scoffed at them. “It’s amazing how you two act like you’re not best friends.”

“We’re not, Steve is my best friend,” Bucky said firmly.

“Ditto,” Sam agreed again.

Wanda didn’t miss the whispered grins on the two men’s faces.

“You guys coming to the party tonight?” Nat asked the table, stealing one of Bucky’s pancakes and ignoring his murderous glare. She was referring to the big Stark Industries New Year’s Eve event that was happening in the city that night. It was the first one being held since Tony’s death, and from what Bucky heard, it was sure to be an emotional affair despite the jolly holiday.

“Oh I’ll be there,” Sam assured her after taking a swig of orange juice. “And I’m ready to cut up that dance floor. Those stuffy suits won’t know what hit them,” he said, utterly satisfied with himself.

Wanda chuckled. “I’m sure they won’t. I can’t make it,” she said, her eyes flicking toward Bucky for half a second before glancing away again. “They’re already sending us material for the new semester, and I wanted to get a head start on it.” After everything that happened with Vision, Wanda had decided to chase after some sort of normalcy, at least as much of it as she could. After struggling for a bit, she decided that school would be a good place to start. It was what most people her age were still occupied with. After a nudge from Clint and getting her U.S. citizenship confirmed, Wanda had gotten her GED and was now taking online classes at a SUNY school that wasn’t too far away. She had decided to major in Psychology, something she felt like she could manage between all the superhero-kicking-ass stuff.

“You can’t be serious,” Nat said, looking genuinely disappointed. “It’s a holiday, Wanda. By definition, you aren’t supposed to do boring things. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t want to fall behind like last semester. I barely passed,” Wanda insisted with a shrug.

“And you Barnes?” Nat said, turning to him. “I don’t suppose we should expect you tonight.”

“That would be correct,” he said simply, pouring more syrup over his breakfast. “Not my scene.”

Nat let out an unimpressed sigh. “So what, you two are just gonna stay in this big, empty compound all night pacing in your rooms?” she asked, taking a sip of apple juice and peering carefully at Wanda from over the rim of her glass.

Something in Nat’s tone made Wanda’s heart rate pick up. She averted the assassin’s gaze and glanced down at the glass table top, her eyes landing on just the thing needed to change the subject.

“Cap, what on earth are on your feet?” she asked, her nose scrunching up with distaste.

“I believe they are called shoes,” he replied absently, his focus on one of the files he had secretly opened up again. He was wearing those specialty sneakers, the ones that had a pocket for each toe and basically looked like a glove made for feet.

Natasha groaned. “I could have sworn I burned those.”

Wanda shook her head. “That’s why you can’t be trusted to dress yourself, Steven.”

“And that’s why yo mama dead,” he muttered without looking up. Everyone’s head spun toward him, equally shocked looks on their faces. “Dead as hell. What shoes she got on in her casket?”

The room was silent. The soft chirp of birds outside could be heard, despite the fact that they were on one of the top floors. Steve belatedly realized what had slipped from his mouth and he looked up, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“I—I mean—wait,” he stuttered, looking at Wanda. “I am so sorry. It’s Parker! And Shuri! They keep sending me those mee-mee’s--”

“Memes,” Sam corrected him, pressing his lips together to suppress his amusement.

“Whatever they’re called, they won’t stop,” Steve insisted. “Wanda, I didn’t mean that, seriously,” he pleaded.

Wanda grinned and patted his hand. “It’s okay, I’m perfectly caught up with my memeology, Steve. Besides,” she said, her grin turning devious, “yo mama dead too.”

The whole table erupted in laughter, Sam wiping tears from his eyes and Bucky coughing up orange juice that had gone down the wrong pipe.

“Hmm. All our mamas are dead,” Nat said thoughtfully, which only brought on a second wave of hysterics.

Sam and Natasha continued to talk about the party, while Steve asked Wanda about her upcoming classes in an effort to make up for his blunder. Eventually, they all finished eating and packed up the containers to throw out. Bucky gathered all their plates and took them to the sink to rinse before loading them into the dishwasher.

“You’d make a good housewife Barnes,” Sam called out to him. Bucky’s only response was a vibranium flip of the bird.

“Alright, cool it you two,” Steve said sternly, although he had a grin on his face. He went over to help Bucky, placing the dishes neatly on the racks after Bucky handed them off to him. “I meant to tell you,” he said softly, for only Bucky to hear. “Betty called. She just wanted to wish everyone a happy new year.”

Steve watched as his friend tensed up, his hand briefly pausing over the dish that was in his hands. After a moment, he composed himself again and handed Steve the plate.

“That’s nice,” Bucky said without looking at him. He rinsed off the last plate and placed it in the dishwasher himself, pushing the door closed and starting the cycle. He looked up at Steve and gave him a tight grin. Steve looked back at him with a hint of his trademark concern, and Bucky wondered if there would ever be a time Steve could look at him without it. There had been a time when there was nothing but admiration in his eyes, but that was a lifetime ago.

“Ross’ ETA is fifteen minutes, we should get ready,” Nat said, looking at the notification on her phone.

Steve gave Bucky’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze before heading out of the common area with Sam and Nat. Bucky was fixing up a few other things in the kitchen when he felt someone standing by his elbow.

“Are we still on for movie night tonight?” Wanda asked quietly. She looked at him with expectant eyes, one of her eyebrows slightly raised. He glanced over her auburn hair, his gaze landing on her lips before meeting her eyes.

The answer should have been no.

“What are we watching?” he asked with a smirk.

She smirked right back. “I don’t know, I was going to let you decide,” she told him. She took the hair tie off her wrist and gathered up her hair at the top of her head. The hem of her shirt lifted up, and Bucky’s eyes landed on the exposed skin, just below her navel. Her grin grew wider. “But no sci-fi thrillers, I’m so done with those.”

Bucky scoffed. “I’m not watching that romantic sludge you like so much.”

“That’s because you’re uncultured,” she informed him, turning to follow the others. “Don’t be late,” she said before disappearing around the corner.

He sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bad at explaining physical appearance, so in my head, Bucky is sporting the Seb-at-the-I,Tonya-premier look loll.


	3. Unity

The sight of Secretary Thaddeus Ross standing at the head of the conference table was not a new one; it wasn’t a sight that many people in the room remembered fondly, considering what happened to the team not long after his last appearance. The tension was palpable in the air, but there was promise that this meeting would go differently because Ross wasn’t standing alone. Flanking him on either side were Sharon Carter and Maria Hill, both of whom had been working diligently as liaisons between the Avengers/Stark Industries and the federal government. Their presence was the only thing keeping the room from igniting.

“The last time I was here with all of you, I spoke about perspective,” he began, making sure he met eyes with each person sitting before him. From Steve and Nat, to Sam and Bucky, to Wanda and Rhodey.

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’m going to bring it to you again,” Ross continued. “It is without a shadow of a doubt that the turmoil brought about by Thanos has shaken the world in a way that was never imagined before. There are forces at play that threaten the very fabric of our existence, and it has demanded the entire globe to gain some perspective, particularly when it comes to those with the means to stop these forces. That includes all of you here today.” He paused purposefully, making sure everyone followed every word he said. That was something fully engrained in him after years of public service, the ability to grasp and hold the attention of others.

“It’s been said countless times, but I’ll say it again: the world, no, the whole universe owes the Avengers an immense debt of gratitude. You all have sacrificed more than anyone,” Ross looked at Natasha, and though there was a slight tick of her jaw, she remained expressionless. “And the sacrifice of those not in this room is not lost on me.” At that, Steve let out a huff of air, and Rhodey suddenly found his hands very interesting.

“The world is in the process of healing, emotionally and physically, and it needs its greatest heroes now more than ever. It’s a great burden to bear, I know, but if the last few years have proven anything, you all are up for the job,” Ross said solemnly.

“With all due respect Mr. Secretary,” Nat spoke up, “last time I checked, our job was an international security threat.” Her expression was still stoic and wary.

“There’s an 800-page document that says so,” Rhodey added, a bitter twinge in his voice.

Ross sighed. “I won’t argue that the Accords presented hurdles that, if weren’t there, could have stopped the initial Snap,” he admitted. Steve’s eyebrows shot up, surprised to hear the admission so openly from someone so far up the political sphere, though perhaps he shouldn’t have been. The Snap had been personal for Ross too; he had lost his daughter and two grandchildren to the Snap, and though the Blip brought them back, there was still phantom pain at his core, the same as so many others who had been left behind during those five years.

“A full repeal of the Accords is out of the question, but the U.N. is open to major amendments considering the circumstances,” Ross said. He looked over at Maria and she stepped forward.

“The subcommittee is willing to work with representatives that are closer to the ground when it comes to its approval of the operations of enhanced individuals,” she told them, nodding over at Steve. “Through Secretary Ross’ office, that includes me and Agent Carter. All operations done on the homeland are subject to our jurisdiction, and depending on how dire the situation is, the subcommittee is willing to issue retroactive approval for international operations.” Maria’s eyebrows knitted together and she addressed Steve directly. “It’s not the full autonomy you want Cap, but it’s more than we had before, with the potential of increasing. The world is still on edge.”

Steve sighed and looked around the room at the team, at his family. His eyes landed on Natasha’s and something unspoken crossed between them. He remembered Tony’s words almost 9 years prior, remembered the fracture that had cost them everything. He still didn’t agree with the Accords, but somehow, they were part of his friend’s legacy, and that wasn’t something he took lightly, not after all that happened in the last year and a half.

“I’ll sign,” he said with difficulty, and some of the tension seeped out of the room.

Ross looked visibly relieved. “I was hoping you’d say that, Captain. It’s a decision you won’t regret. It brings us closer to the ultimate goal of returning the world to a sense of normalcy, which is why the U.N. has extended an invitation to your organization to attend the commissioning ceremony of the Returned Citizens Coalition in Brussels next month. It would be a show of much needed unity between the governments of the world and enhanced individuals. Lord knows we don’t need anything else to divide us.”

Ross was one of the most vocal supporters of the Returned Citizens Coalition. It was drafted up in an effort to resolve the chaos that ensued when the Blip happened and half the population returned to find a world forever changed, one that didn’t seem to have room for them any longer. While countless people were overjoyed by the return of their loved ones, it didn’t take long for bitter contentions to form between those who had five years to adjust to a new normal, and those who still held on to life before the Snap. Those who were Blipped back were dubbed ‘returned citizens’, even though hundreds of thousands of them were still waiting to repatriated to their respective countries after essentially being wiped from existence. Political parties wasted little time in polarizing the plight of returned citizens, and bitter divisions plagued just about every nation in the world because of limited resources and space. The Coalition was hoped to be a way to bridge the divide, but it was hotly contested by an only growing number of people, and the threat of violence wasn’t far off.

Steve stood up and closed the distance between him and the Secretary. He extended his hand and Ross gratefully took it, exchanging a firm shake.

“We’ll be there Mr. Secretary,” Steve said firmly.

“You sure about this Cap?” Rhodey asked after Ross left, though Maria and Sharon lingered behind.

“Ross is right,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “What the world needs is unity right now, and if this is what it takes, then we should be willing to compromise.”

“I think it’s okay to be optimistic about this,” Sharon said, glancing at everyone. “Ross has been…less rigid about the Accords since Thanos. His main focus is on the Coalition and its success, even though a lot of people in the administration don’t agree, including the President.” She shrugged. “He’s on our side this time, guys.”

“We’ll take your word for it,” Natasha said with a grin that Sharon returned.

“What about Fury?” Steve asked Maria.

She shook her head. “You know he doesn’t deal with red tape. He’s got an eye out though,” she said, ignoring her unintentional pun. Sam still laughed.

“Whatever happens, we stick together,” Steve told the room. “We can’t afford not to.”

No one could argue with that.

________________

The first time Wanda and Bucky ended up in bed together, they swore it was a mistake. The second time it happened, they had agreed it was just a moment of weakness. The third time it happened, it had been ‘one for the road.’ By the tenth time, they just stopped naming it.

It started six months ago, when Wanda had been the only one to hear the screams coming from Bucky’s room in the dead of night. He had progressed to the point where the nightmares had become fewer and a little farther in between, but they still happened. She asked Friday to open his door and found Bucky on the floor, tangled in the sheets, shaking and pulling at his hair. She approached him carefully, with slow movements, but he still flinched away from her.

“James? James, it was just a dream,” Wanda tried to reassure him, but his breathing only got shallower as he pulled his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth. Steve had been on a mission, and she wasn’t sure who else would be equipped to deal with this kind of thing, so she did the only thing she could.

Wisps of red energy glowed from her hand as she reached out and placed it by his temple. His blue irises burned red, matching her own. Almost immediately, her nose filled with the salty, snappy smell of the beach and the sweet, caramel scent of candied apples and spun sugar. She could hear the happy screeches of people enjoying the boardwalk—Coney Island, in Brooklyn. She could just make out a familiar looking blond, though he was smaller than how she knew him.

The red glow dissipated and she withdrew her hand, kneeling in front of him. Bucky’s eyes returned to their regular color, and he looked up at her warily, although he seemed dazed by the memory she had pulled, as if he were trying to hold onto it for a little while longer.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he asked gruffly after a bit. His shoulder were more relaxed, and his breathing had slowed, but he was still on guard.

“I just accessed a memory, a good one, so you could calm down,” she said, guilt creeping in.

“Stay out of my head,” he warned, though his voice lacked any real edge. He could almost taste the hot dogs on his tongue.

“I will. I won’t do it again,” Wanda promised, a promise she was yet to break.

After that incident, the two of them had danced around one another until they decided to inch closer into the same orbit. It started with cups of coffee in the morning, the occasional training session, and yes, shared bowls of popcorn while something on Netflix played. It was pretty innocent…until it wasn’t. This wasn’t a relationship, that they both knew for sure. Their hearts belonged in other places, to other people out of their reach, but their bodies found relief together from whatever shadows that clouded their minds.

“That guy kind of looks like you,” Wanda said now as she popped an M&M in her mouth. They were in her room, in her bed, their clothes strewn across the floor. They had compromised and put on _The Martian_ , which was science-y but didn’t feel too science-y, according to Wanda.

“No he doesn’t,” Bucky said, taking the package from her and pouring some into his hand.

Wanda nudged him with her shoulder and chuckled. “Yes he does, like around the eyes, and the chin kind of,” she insisted, pointing at the astronaut on the television screen in front of them.

“You need glasses,” he said, nudging her back.

Wanda shook her head, not really invested in winning this particular debate. Her phone buzzed, another text from Nat, and she laughed at whatever it said. “You sure you didn’t want to go to the party? It seems to just be getting started,” she asked Bucky, waving her phone at him.

“I am so positive, I’m a proton,” he insisted. There was not a chance he would be caught at a party like that, even if it weren’t put on by Stark Industries. He wasn’t sure his welcome would be too warm either, after the history he had with the family (despite what Steve said), and the thought of facing Pepper Potts and Morgan Stark made his stomach knot.

Wanda rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dork, it’s unbelievable.”

“You like it when I’m a dork.”

“Bold of you to assume I like you at all.”

“Really?” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reached over and snaked his arm around her waist, dragging his lips across her shoulder until he reached her neck. “I think you liked me plenty about 20 minutes ago,” he murmured against her skin. He felt her shiver.

“Get away,” she said swatting at him. “I’m trying to watch Matt Damon grow alien potatoes.” She watched the screen and scoffed. “You know, they could have just called Thor, or Carol. This movie would have been done in five minutes.”

Bucky laughed and settled back against the pillows. They watched and snacked some more until the movie was done (Bucky still protesting that he resembled one of the actors in the slightest). They started searching for another movie, but that was abandoned in favor of something a little more fun and aerobic. Soon, the night etched toward midnight, toward a new year with unexplored realities, and Wanda insisted they watch the ball drop.

“Five…four…three…two…one. Happy 2025!” Wanda chanted with the crowd sardined in Times Square on the screen. Auld Lang Syne began to play as the camera panned across the crowd as different strangers gave in to the tradition of a kiss at midnight. Wanda turned to Bucky and raised her eyebrows expectantly. He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, placing a light and chaste kiss on her lips.

“Happy New Year, Maximoff,” he said.

“Happy New Year, Barnes,” she replied.

Bucky stretched his arms above his head before sliding out of the bed and searching for his pants. “I’m off, see you on the flip side,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head.

Wanda propped herself on her elbow. “Why don’t you spend the night?” she asked, a pout on her face. Bucky froze and stared at her, which was met by her gleeful cackling.

“I’m kidding, get out of here,” she flipped her hand and her door swung open.

Bucky laughed, but the grin slowly faded from his face as his gaze landed on the muted television screen. Wanda looked over and a gasp escaped her throat. A solemn looking news anchor had replaced the cheering crowds, and though they couldn’t hear what she was saying, the chyron on the bottom of the screen said it all:

**SECRETARY ROSS SHOT; DEAD**


	4. Someone She Deserved

“Tributes from around the world are still pouring in for Secretary Ross twelve hours after he was fatally shot in the head,” the news anchor reported. “Ross had just finished heartfelt remarks at a New Year’s Eve event honoring returned citizens and their families, along with the families of those who lost loved ones permanently due to the catastrophic events surrounding the Snap, when a shot rang out, leaving him dead at the scene.”

Bucky sat with Sam, Steve, Nat, and Wanda in the common room, watching the news coverage. It was the only thing they could watch, shocked that the man who had addressed them just 24 hours prior was now gone.

“The fringe conspiracy group known as the Sons of Thanos have claimed responsibility for the assassination with a message that was posted to the dark web that reads, in part: ‘ _Our Benevolent Father Thanos was unjustly slain, though his legacy lives on through us. Those who try to stand in our way will be met with blood and fury. Take this as a warning. This won’t be the last from us. Thanos will rise again.’_ The FBI has yet to confirm any suspects, though the investigation continues”

“That is sick,” Wanda said, her voice trembling a bit. Steve muted the television, mostly for her sake.

“Who are these people anyway?” Nat asked with a disgusted look aimed at the screen.

“That’s a good question,” a voice said behind them. They all turned to see Rhodey coming up to them, a file in his hand.

Steve nodded at him. “What do you know, Rhodey?”

“I know enough,” he said, taking a seat on one of the sofas. “Our guys have been tracking those nut cases for a while. They started as Reddit threads about a year after the Snap, mostly talking about how Thanos had done the right thing. Then they started forming satellite conspiracy groups, until they all just decided to start calling themselves the Sons of Thanos.”

“What’s their M.O.?” Sam asked.

“That’s the thing,” Rhodey continued, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “They don’t have one. Even though they all share the name, they aren’t one unified group. The most they seemed capable of were a few protests and book club meetings in the basements of churches. None of them seemed like a viable threat, until now.”

“So, what? You think that manifesto is a red herring?” Bucky asked.

“We can’t know for sure,” Rhodey said. “But take a look at this.” He slid the file across the coffee table and Bucky picked it up and opened it, Steve and Sam looking over his shoulders to read it. “I got my hands on a copy of the ballistics report from my contact at the FBI. It was a single shot that took him out from a long range rifle.”

“McMillan TAC-50,” Bucky muttered, scanning the page. It was one of his favorite firearms to work with.

“Check out how far it says the shot came from,” Rhodey urged.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up when he read the figure. “4,500 meters. That’s impossible.”

Rhodey nodded. “Even for you,” he directed at Bucky.

Bucky tried his best not to take that as a challenge.

“So you’re saying an enhanced did this?” Natasha asked, reaching for the file, which Bucky handed over.

“It’s possible,” Rhodey shrugged. “Whoever it was, they were trained, and not by amateurs either.”

“It could have been a lone wolf,” Steve offered.

“Then why go through all that trouble of placing the blame on the Sons of Thanos? Why not get their 15 minutes of fame?” Wanda countered.

“The Sons of Thanos are against any legislation that deals with returned citizens,” Rhodey explained. “That’s why no one is really questioning their involvement, since Ross was the one of the biggest supporters of returned citizens. But they’re not the only ones who could have had a target on Ross’ back.”

“You don’t seriously think this was an inside job,” Steve said, frowning.

“Really, Cap? After everything we’ve seen, _that_ seems unlikely?” Rhodey deadpanned. Steve just shrugged.

“The manifesto said this wouldn’t be their last move. What about the Coalition ceremony? Couldn’t that be a hot target next?” Natasha asked, handing the file back to Rhodey.

“Sure can,” he confirmed. “Everyone’s on high alert. All eyes are on the Coalition members, they’re high risk.” 

“Well it’s a good thing we have front row seats then,” Steve said. “Thanks for keeping us updated, Rhodey.”

“Not a problem,” Rhodey got up and shook Steve’s hand. “Just watch out guys. The ink is still drying on all your pardons.”

That garnered a few chuckles from the group as they said their goodbyes to the colonel. Steve, Sam, and Wanda shuffled over to the kitchen to find a menu to order lunch from, and Bucky was headed back to his apartment when he was stopped by Nat.

“I take it you had fun being study buddies last night,” she said, an eyebrow raised.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, you and Wanda are about as subtle as an elephant.” Bucky tried to push past her, but she wouldn’t let him. “Listen, you’re both consenting adults, I’m not trying to pry into your business. I just want you to tread carefully here.”

Bucky looked at her for a moment, trying to decipher what she was saying. “I’m not taking advantage of her, Nat.”

“I know you’re not,” Nat said quickly. “I’m just saying…she’s been through a lot, especially with Vis, and she may not have worked through it all,” she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Just make sure you both know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not gonna hurt her, don’t worry,” Bucky assured her, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

“I’m not just worried about her,” she frowned. “I bet you have a few things you haven’t worked through either,” she gave him a warm grin. “You’re like my little brother, James. I’m looking out for you.” She tousled his hair.

“I’m several decades older than you, Romanoff,” he said. His eyes glared at her, but there was a grin on his lips. As much as she was a pain in his ass, Bucky appreciated how Natasha dispensed her timely wisdom. This wouldn’t be the first time she had his back, even if his memories were a bit faded.

She rolled her eyes. “Could have fooled me.”

They shared one last grin before Nat headed after the others and Bucky made the trip back downstairs. He would have joined them for lunch, but the unease he had woken up with the day before still hung over his head. When he got to his room, he tried to find little things to do to distract himself. He swept the floors, wiped the counters, organized his sock drawer by color and thread count. He considered going out for another run, but he didn’t trust himself not to go clear across the country with all the energy he had, somewhere far west, perhaps a state best known for their potatoes…

Flashes of soft, brown skin and dark curly hair pushed their way to the front of his mind, and he winced at the pang in his chest that followed. He didn’t allow himself to think about her often. It had been years, longer than it felt thanks to the Snap, but whenever she did find her way back to him, her image was sharp and clear, as if he could just reach out and touch her.

Against his better judgment, Bucky went over to his closet, opening the door and pushing past everything to the farthest corner where a plain black backpack resided, untouched for some time. He grabbed one of the straps and brought it to his couch, placing it gently on the cushions as if one wrong move would make it detonate. He opened it and pulled out one of the journals inside. Since returning to the States from Wakanda, Bucky hadn’t done much writing, and he wondered if it was about time he started again. Part of him felt like it was unnecessary; the journals had been a way for him to organize the shredded remains of his mind, but these days he dared to think that he was slowly rebuilding a solid foundation. Slowly.

He opened the journal and flipped through the pages, full of his meticulous scrawl until he got to a flash of purple. He flipped back until he reached it again, the almost neon color in stark contrast to the dark black ink around it. He frowned, his eyes scanning the words until he inhaled sharply, realizing what it said:

> _“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you—especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you,—you’d forget me.”_

It was a passage from Mona’s favorite book. _Jane Eyre_ , he remembered. It was one of the books she had been writing about for her dissertation, and she had read that scene to him one night, before their first kiss, and sheepishly admitted that it was something she read at least once a week since she had first read it in her sophomore year of undergrad.

_“It’s corny, but…” she had said, sitting pretzel legged on his bed “Can you imagine feeling that way about someone? Like you might die if they’re not around, like a piece of you is missing.” She looked at him with a shy grin, expecting him to laugh at her._

_“I think I could,” he had answered, his tone serious enough that Mona had to look away from him. He chuckled. “Are you blushing, Ms. Johnson?” he asked playfully._

_“Black people don’t blush, Bucky.”_

The pang in Bucky’s chest only grew at the memory. It was later that night, when she had fallen asleep, that he had grabbed her copy of the book and her purple pen and scribbled the passage into his journal. He could feel it then, and he felt it now, a tug from deep within him that led him to her, but he no longer knew what was at the other end of his string, if she still felt the same tug after all this time.

She was probably a professor now, with ‘doctor’ preceding her name. Her students probably adored her, just like he remembered the writing center tutors did. She definitely had tenure by now; she was the hardest working person at that university. She probably met someone too, someone who thought she hung the moon and the stars, someone who would hold her when she needed it most, even if she didn’t realize it herself. Someone who would tell her they’d never leave her and truly means it.

Someone she deserved.

More than once he considered looking her up, but it would be no use. He couldn’t imagine that she would ever want to see him again, not after he lied to her. He tried not to think about what her reaction was when she found out who he really was after the mess in Vienna played out in the news, how violated she must have felt to find out exactly who she had spent all those nights with.

No, that time was better left in the past, peacefully settled in the far reaches of his subconscious, only to be dug up when he needed something sweet to chase back the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first hint of Mona in this fic! If you didn't read the first one, you can just read the epilogue of Gethsemane to get a hint of what happened to her. Or you can be surprised...
> 
> Also, a blink-and-you-missed-it reference to Bucky and Nat's time in the Red Room together, loll (though, in my 'fan canon' they didn't have a romantic relationship, cuz I like Steve/Nat a little better)


	5. Amsterdam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that, I'm re-posting chapter 5 because something weird happened the last time I tried. I also made a few edits, oopsy!

Bucky had never been in a room with so many nervous politicians before.

He couldn’t blame them; he would be nervous too if he had to be in the same vicinity as the most notorious assassin in history who was known for taking out heads of state, especially after what just happened with Ross. He wasn’t a suspect (he had an airtight alibi at least), but he could still feel the cautious glances and outright glares of the foreign dignitaries packed into the main amphitheater of the Berlaymont building in Brussels.

He resisted the urge to pull at his collar as he settled down in the seat next to Sam towards the front, where Nat and Steve were already waiting.

“Will you relax?” Sam muttered to him.

“I am relaxed,” Bucky insisted. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly missing the extra length.

“There, right there,” Sam said nodding at the gesture. “You’re not relaxed. Just chill, you’re starting to put me on edge.”

Bucky was about to say something not-so-savory when Nat shot them both a look that made their voices die at the back of their throats. A few moments later, Maria and Sharon showed up to join them. They were all seated in the section designated for the U.S. delegation, and besides a couple of junior senators, no other representatives were present. It showed just how divided American politics had become, even within the same administration. Bucky ruefully thought about how idyllic military service had been made to seem way back when; you would fight for your country to protect the very democracy that granted people the rights they deserved just for being human. It was why Steve was so adamant about it. Now, though, it seemed like political agendas took precedent, and people came last. Or perhaps that’s how it had always been, but nobody realized until it was too late. It was hard for Bucky to reconcile.

“Anything?” Steve muttered over to Nat.

She blinked a few times before shaking her head. “I’m not picking anything up so far.” Nat scanned the room. To an observer, it would like she was simply checking out the other guests, but what they wouldn’t see were the high-tech contacts she had over her eyes. They picked up heat signatures, facial recognition, traced any data signals coming in or out of the building, and even scanned for explosives. So far, the place was clean of any threats.

“You guys ready for tonight?” Steve said to Sam and Bucky.

They both nodded. Steve was referring to the gala reception that was being held not too far away in Amsterdam to celebrate the passing of the Coalition into international law. It was an exclusive event, only open to the most powerful, rich, and famous. Even Captain America couldn’t score an invite. Still, Sharon managed to hack into the guest list in order to get Sam in under an alias. The two of them, along with Bucky were going to surveil the event, watching for any possible threats made by the Sons of Thanos or other hate groups.

“I’m ready, can’t speak for Nervous Nelly over here,” Sam muttered, nudging Bucky a little.

Bucky glared at him, but he couldn’t help the grin that found its way to his face. Sam had been a surprise to him. After the whole mess in Bucharest and Germany, Bucky was sure that Sam would join the long list of people who hated him, but they had slipped into an easy friendship, one that mirrored the connection he had with Steve. They understood each other, and when they worked together, it was as easy as pie. He actually looked forward to the missions he had with Sam, but he’d rather impale himself with his own metal arm than admit that out loud. 

The energy in the room shifted as the Secretary-General of the U.N. stepped up to the podium to welcome everyone to the event. He emphasized the importance of world unity and the vital peace-keeping efforts of the organization.

“It is my great pleasure to invite a special guest to the platform,” the Secretary-General said in his heavy Eastern European accent. “While he is the sovereign of his own nation, he has been a global leader, leading the way for a better tomorrow for all people, including the returned citizens we are here to advocate for today, of whom he is one himself. Please welcome His Royal Majesty, King T’Challa of Wakanda.”

The room erupted into applause as T’Challa stepped up to the platform. Bucky and the rest of the team sat up a bit straighter, unaware that their colleague was going to address the crowd. The young king stood stately at the podium, waiting for everyone to settle back down.

Though he was in a simple black suit, T’Challa always managed to look regal, as if it were something that radiated out of his pores and enraptured those around him. A small grin appeared on Bucky’s face. If only everyone else could see the king in the middle of a heated game of Uno with his little sister. 

“Thank you Mr. Secretary-General,” T’Challa began in his soothing, deep voice. “Before I begin, I would like to acknowledge the man who was to stand in my place.” The room grew somber, everyone’s emotions hanging on his every word. “Secretary Thaddeus Ross was a man dedicated to public service, and his untimely death was felt across the world. But we are here not to mourn, but to celebrate his achievements and ensure his legacy is continued through the Returned Citizens Coalition, a cause which he dedicated his last moments to.” Just like that, the room brightened up again, and the team didn’t miss the subtle nod he made towards them.

Speeches were made, ribbons were cut, and documents were signed, the ceremony closing with promises of a more peaceful future. The crowd milled around the room as everyone mingled, and T’Challa made his way to the others, flanked by Nakia and Okoye.

“You didn’t tell us you’d be at this thing,” Steve said with a smile as he grasped T’Challa’s hand in his own.

T’Challa chuckled warmly. “I never pass up the opportunity to surprise dear friends.” He turned to Bucky. “And how are you, brother? Mother sends her regards,” he said, pulling Bucky into hug.

“Please send Ramonda my love,” Bucky said, warmed by the thought of the Queen Mother.

“You are sorely missed back home, Sergeant Barnes,” Nakia added, stepping forward for a hug of her own. “What did Shuri call you again?”

“Wakanda’s favorite imported _snack_ , with two c’s,” T’Challa answered with a sly look.

Nakia laughed, but that didn’t mask the grunt of disapproval from Okoye. Bucky looked over at her and offered up a grin and a short nod.

“General, it’s good to see you again,” he said.

“Sergeant,” she said curtly in reply.

So he still wasn’t forgiven. Maybe one day he’d make it back into the General’s good graces.

“Will you be going to the gala reception tonight?” Nat asked T’Challa after he greeted her with a kiss on her cheek.

T’Challa frowned slightly. “I have no plans to attend. Not my scene,” he said, grinning at Bucky again over the shared term. U.N. galas were notorious for being _over_ indulgent. He had been to one before when his father was still alive, and there were still some things burned into his memory that he’d rather forget. 

“That’s probably for the best,” Maria chimed in. “It’s going to be a hotbed of potential targets considering recent events.”

“We’ve got eyes on the situation, we assure you, Agent Hill,” Nakia said, giving T’Challa a knowing look.

“So will we,” Steve said. “We’ve got our best men on the job,” he smirked over at Bucky and Sam.

“And woman,” Sharon added. “We’ll be keeping an eye on the Secretary-General. Intel says he’s especially of interest. We’ll share anything else we learn tonight,” she directed at Nakia.

Sam draped one arm around Sharon’s shoulders and the other around Bucky’s. “Oh, tonight is gonna be fun.”

Sharon and Bucky could only groan. 

**________________**

“Got any plans for the weekend, Wilson?”

Bucky was in position on the roof of a building not far from the glittering façade of the gala venue, waiting on the signal from Sam. From his vantage point, he could see the line of guests arriving, many of them the foreign dignitaries that were at the ceremony earlier. He could just make out the figure of his partner as he made his way to the entrance in a suit he would never be able to afford and a fake identity as an up and coming film producer.

“Yeah, actually,” Sam replied over the comms discretely. “I’ve got a date with that cute girl from HR. Her name is Shonda, she has the freckles,” he said, as if Bucky should have been aware of who she was.

“Oh nice, you’re cutting the middle man out completely. She can just file the sexual harassment complaint over dessert.” Bucky heard Sharon clear her throat in an effort not to laugh.

“Okay, what about you, Tin Man? You and Wanda got any more _movie nights_ planned?” Sam said smugly.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “What did Romanoff say to you?”

“She didn’t have to say anything,” Sam replied. “You know, for a super-secret-spy-assassin, you’re pretty terrible at keeping secrets.”

“You and Maximoff?” Sharon asked over her channel. She couldn’t help it. “It does kind of make sense,” she commented thoughtfully. 

Bucky let out a deep breath as he adjusted the scope on his rifle. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not? With them puppy dog eyes you give each other over breakfast?” Sam whispered as he got closer to the bouncer at the door.

“You know, you should really be careful about what you say to the super-secret-spy-assassin that has a clear shot to the back of your head.”

“Alright guys,” Sharon intervened. “Focus. Barnes, what are you seeing?”

Bucky scanned the crowd again. “Nothing out of the ordinary so far. Just a bunch of rich people having fun.”

“Okay, Wilson, once you’re in, remember to scan the venue for explosives, and don’t lose sight of the Secretary-General,” Sharon said.

“Got it,” Sam said softly as the bouncer scanned the forged platinum wrist band that would gain him access to the event. The scan was successful, and Sam walked straight into the ballroom where the other guests were congregated, cocktail waiters weaving in and out of the crowd with trays of champagne. “I’m in.”

“Making my way now,” Bucky said. He strapped his rifle across his shoulders and adjusted the apparatus on his back, Sam’s wings ejecting from their pack and extending out on either side of him. He walked to the edge of the roof and stepped off, letting gravity and the wings glide him towards the roof of the venue.

“ _I’m like a biiiird, I only fly awaaaay. I dunno know where my soul is, I dunno where my home is,”_ Bucky sang in a ridiculously high pitched tone. It was a song Shuri had introduced him to, and it fit Wilson perfectly. “Now I understand why you like these things so much.”

“You are never wearing my wings ever again. Never,” Sam grumbled.

Bucky and Sharon laughed as he touched down on the roof, setting up position again. “Deploying Nightwing now.”

“ _Red_ wing,” Sam hissed.

“Whatever,” Bucky rolled his eyes as he pressed a few buttons and the little robot lifted off over the side of the building. Bucky took the tablet from the pack and maneuvered Redwing so that it got a clear video feed of the inside of the venue through its large bay windows.

“Okay, I’m getting the feed on my end,” Sharon said. “Sam, whatcha got?”

“Nothing. Just old white guys and women who are way, way, too attractive for them,” Sam reported as he snagged a glass from a passing tray and took a sip.

“That would be the entertainment for the night,” Sharon said. “Escorts.”

“There are prostitutes here?” Bucky asked. So that’s where tax-payer dollars were going. Cool.

“Yeah guys, it’s legal here. No need for back alleys and Denny’s parking lots,” Sharon said plainly.

“In that case…” Sam trailed off.

“Gosh, what about Shonda?” Sharon asked incredulously.

“I don’t see a ring on this finger,” Sam said, and Bucky could hear the shrug in his voice.

Sharon sighed deeply, no doubt contemplating her life choices. “Just stay on task, geez. Bucky, pan a little to the right.”

“Got it, boss,” he said as he guided Redwing where she wanted. He watched as the sea of guests glided across the frame until he caught sight of something familiar. Or rather, _someone_ familiar.

His heart stopped and his mouth went dry.

She was wearing a red dress, not too unlike the one she had worn at her coworker’s wedding. This one draped over her frame gracefully with an exposed back, and he could see that most of her soft curves had been replaced by harder lines and leaner muscles. She had a pixie cut fashioned into finger waves, and her mocha skin seemed to glitter under the light of the chandeliers. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder, right at Redwing, right through the lens, right at him.

She winked.

The breath left his lungs, but he managed to utter one word.

“Mona.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's that Nelly Furtado song Bucky was singing, loll:  
> https://youtu.be/roPQ_M3yJTA


	6. options

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note for those who didn't read the first part: After D.C., Bucky traveled under a fake name, and he came up with...Steve. How original, right? loll Mona never learned his real first name, but she knew his middle and last names.

2 0 1 5

_Bearhooke, Idaho_

_“Pregnant? Like…with a baby?”_

_“Well, I sure hope it isn’t an alien,” Mona said blankly. She couldn’t look up at Luna, instead focusing on a bit of dry cuticle on her thumb that she was fidgeting with. They were in the café in the law school building, which had the best food options on campus. It was the least the university could do for the arms and legs they asked for in exchange for their prized judicial curriculum. Mona had hardly touched the burger she ordered before she finally told her best friend the news._

_Luna took a slow deep breath. “It’s Steve’s?” she asked, even though she knew the answer was yes. She was just stalling while she tried to completely comprehend the situation._

_Mona nodded. She took a moment before adding, “I’m about six weeks along. I went to the gyno on Friday.”_

_“Shit,” Luna said softly. She looked at Mona, wishing there was something she could say or do. She knew that if he were still here, they probably would have been jumping for joy and squealing while others looked on in confusion. They had always scoffed at things like getting married, having babies, submitting to the mundane things of domestic life. But that had changed when Steve entered the picture, Mona changed, and Luna had enjoyed watching her friend get the happy ending she deserved. But he was gone now, the rug thoroughly and violently pulled out from under her, under them._

_“You have options,” Luna offered, mainly because she didn’t know what else to say. As best as she tried, Mona couldn’t hide her pain from Luna. She could always see beyond the mask Mona put up._

_Mona finally looked up at her. “I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m telling you. I made the appointment already, with the clinic. It’s over the border, but it’s only twenty minutes away.” Idaho was a red state, so Mona wasn’t surprised to find that multiple mandatory psych evaluations were required, and rigorous questioning and coercion would be waiting for her if she tried it here. Thankfully, things were much easier in the state of Washington. She pressed her lips together and looked back down at the cold burger in front of her. “Will you come with me?” she asked, her voice hollow._

_Luna reached over and grabbed her friend’s hand, applying even and sure pressure until Mona met her eyes again. Her chest ached with what she saw in them. Maybe it was wrong of her, but she wished in that moment that wherever Steve was, he was suffering, that he was so miserable that he cursed his own existence. As far as she was concerned, that’s what men did best; they threw their weight around, laid claim to what they felt entitled to, and left whenever they desired, unbothered by what would be left in their wake. She placed her other hand over Mona’s, sandwiching it between both her pale ones._

_“You don’t even need to ask. Of course I will.”_


	7. Mona

“What did you say, Barnes?” Sharon asked over the comms.

Bucky couldn’t answer. He watched on the tablet as Mona turned and made her way across the room before stopping and making conversation with another attendee.

His heart beat irregularly as all the memories from his time in Bearhooke came flooding to the forefront of his mind. He never thought he would see her again, let alone here in Amsterdam of all places. He had treated her like a dream, like a beautiful fantasy that he could never have again, and yet here she was, as if he somehow managed to conjure her up by sheer want. 

“Barnes? Do you copy?” Sharon asked again.

“I’m going in,” he choked out.

“What? No, that’s not the plan, Bucky--”

But he tuned her out as he placed the tablet back in the pack and took it off, setting it on the roof beside his feet. He looked around, spotting the entrance to the roof not too far away. He broke the knob and the lock with his metal hand before darting down the stairs into the venue. As he reached the bottom, he could tell that the stairs led into a narrow hall that went into the kitchen and service area of the venue where different staff milled around, waiting for further directions. Bucky slowly creeped through the hall, aligning himself with the shadows to go unnoticed. Luckily, (or unluckily for the poor unsuspecting soul) one of the event staff members dressed in an impeccable black suit made his way toward Bucky, frowning down at a clipboard, unaware of the hidden assassin.

“Sorry about this bud,” Bucky murmured as he grabbed the man in a headlock, waiting patiently for him to go limp in his arms. “I just need to borrow your suit.” He checked for a pulse, which was still steady, and yanked off his gear to switch clothing. Sharon was still buzzing in his ear, but he couldn’t deal with that at the moment, turning off his comm with a double tap of his finger. All he could think about was getting to Mona and finding out why she was here.

Bucky adjusted himself and smoothed down his hair, casually making his way through the kitchen and into the ballroom like he actually belonged. He scanned the room, looking for that red dress, and his eyes landed on Sam, who was regarding him with a severe look. Bucky just gave him a small nod as he walked past, trying to assure his partner that he knew what he was doing, even though that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Just then, he heard an achingly familiar laugh, and he found Mona dancing in the arms of one of the dignitaries he recognized from the ceremony.

He made a beeline for her as she twirled out of the man’s arms, laughing gleefully the whole way. He made it in time to stand in her path, and she twirled to a stop right in front of him, her chest flush against his and her hands landing lightly on his shoulders. He instinctively reached up and placed his hands on her waist, his breath catching at the familiarity of her body.

It was her. Those were her deep chocolate eyes, her full and soft lips. Bucky was sure this wasn’t real, but he could feel her solid form under his hands, could feel her own hands against him as they curled around his shoulders. She looked up and studied him with an unreadable expression before her lips curved up in a coy grin.

“Why hello, handsome,” she purred as she led them into a dance. That was definitely the voice he remembered. 

“Mona…” Bucky mustered up weakly as he frowned down at her.

She pouted innocently, her lower lip jutting out slightly. “Already? Don’t you wanna try and get to know a girl first?” She chuckled a little. “But I can definitely make you moan. And with a face like that, I’ll even let you make _me_ moan a couple of times.” She bit her lip suggestively.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, an uneasy feeling spreading through him.

“I’m on the clock, actually,” she said, guiding them around the other dancing couples.

“You’re…you’re one of the prostitutes?” Bucky swallowed hard.

“Oh, honey, please. I prefer the term…” she abruptly had him dip her low, and she slowly rolled herself back up, her arms wrapping around his neck until their faces were only inches apart. “…Connoisseur of fun,” she finished, and her breath tickled his lips. She had them moving again, swaying amongst the other dancers.

“You need to come with me, now,” Bucky told her, urgency lacing his voice.

She smiled up at him sweetly, her eyes bright, and several emotions bloomed in his chest. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m already accounted for tonight,” she informed him. She looked over her shoulder and nodded at a man with white hair and a matching mustache who was watching them with a scowl on his face. “President of Finland,” she said with a smirk. “I hear he has a foot fetish. Lucky for him, I have very pretty feet.”

“We need to leave, now,” was the only thing he could say in response. He looked around for the nearest exit and met eyes with Sam, who was staring daggers at him. He turned back to Mona, who was watching him with that same unreadable expression from before.

“Now that I think about it, you look so familiar to me,” she admitted softly, almost to herself. “Have we met before?”

Bucky pulled them to a complete stop, standing still in the middle of the dance floor. He looked her in the eye, panic racing through him. “Mona. It’s me, Bucky.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, giving no indication that she registered what he said. “I know we’ve never done…business together. I would have remembered that for sure. Wait, I got it now,” she declared triumphantly. “Mrs. Donahue’s eighth-grade science class. You’re the kid who passed out when we dissected the fetal pigs.” She seemed satisfied with her guess, and Bucky just stared at her, wondering what she was trying to do. She could have been under duress, or someone could have been forcing her to be here. Either way, Bucky snapped out of his stupor and was determined to get her out.

“Mona, please. Let’s go,” Bucky urged, starting to lead her away, but she rooted herself to where she was standing.

“You keep calling me that, but that’s not my name,” she told him with a slight frown. Before Bucky could say anything, Finland’s president was by her side, his hand grabbing her waist possessively.

“Darling, what are you doing?” he said, glaring at Bucky.

It took everything in Bucky not to smash his fist into that stupid mustache.

Mona dislodged her hand from Bucky’s and placed it on her client’s chest. “I’m sorry, Mr. President. I was just talking to my friend here, nothing more,” she assured him in a low, breathy voice.

He seemed to soften at that, but he still had her waist in a white-knuckled grip. “What did I tell you to call me?”

Mona gasped softly and stared at him sheepishly from under her eyelashes. “I’m sorry. Daddy.” She giggled and went up on her toes to whisper something in the Finnish man’s ear, something that made him laugh and move his grip from her waist to her ass.

“Come with me,” he said gruffly, leading her away from Bucky. Mona turned back and waved her fingers at Bucky in goodbye, along with another wink before being led to the elevator lobby just outside the ballroom doors.

Bucky knew he couldn’t make a scene, not in the middle of the party, so he watched with clenched fists as they stepped into the elevator and disappeared. He was on his way to the elevators himself when a young-looking woman (almost too young) in a glittery gold dress stepped up on the platform at the head of the room with a microphone and called for everyone’s attention.

“It’s time to get this party really started!” she squealed into the mic, shimmying her shoulders. The crowd erupted into cheers as the lights went out, replaced by colorful strobes and loud techno music. A sea of people seemed to come out of nowhere, blocking Bucky’s path to the elevators. He was pushing his way through rowdy revelers when he felt a hand firmly grip his forearm. He looked back sharply, and was only half relieved to find that it was Sam.

“What are you doing, man?” Sam shouted outed over the music, deep wrinkles between his eyebrows.

“I need to get her, Sam. I need to,” Bucky pleaded.

Sam studied his partner carefully. He knew Bucky well enough to when he was dead set on doing something, whether it was protocol or not. He reluctantly let go of his arm and pressed a finger to his ear.

“I lost him,” he said into the comm to Sharon.

Bucky gave Sam what he hoped was a grateful look before making his way to the elevators again. He got there in time to catch one that was ready to go, stopping the doors from closing with his hand. He got in and joined a couple that was already getting their own party started, and Bucky kept his eyes trained in front of him. Not that they even seemed to care.

The elevator finally dinged and the doors slid open. Bucky wasted no time and stepped out into the hallway it led to. It looked like a hotel, doors lining either side of the hallway with lights next to them. Bucky deduced that the lights signaled if a room was being used or not, and his suspicions were confirmed when the couple fumbled their way into a room, the door closing with a loud thud and the accompanying light going off. The second elevator dinged, and Bucky was mildly surprised to see the Secretary-General step out with a woman on his arm, and the two of them disappeared into a room as well.

Bucky let out a deep breath. There were already a number of rooms with their lights out, and Bucky had no way of knowing which room had Mona in it, but he was going to find her, even if he had to knock down every last door. He began to make his way down the hall, when he realized his search wouldn’t last too long. There was a door that was propped open, and he could see a pair of smooth brown legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He would know those legs anywhere.

He hesitated at the threshold for some reason, a tiny voice in the back of his head warning him to turn back, but he brushed it aside.

“Close the door on your way in,” her voice rang out to him, though she didn’t look to see who was there.

Bucky stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He took cautious steps further into the room until she was in full view, sitting patiently on the bed.

“You’re not who I was expecting,” she said, not seeming surprised in the least. “But I can’t say I’m altogether disappointed.” She watched him with an amused look on her face, as if she knew something he didn’t.

Bucky took a few more cautious steps until he was standing right in front of her. He took her in from head to toe, and she leaned back on her hands to give him a better look. He had imagined seeing her again countless times, spent hours thinking about all the things he would say to her, how he would bear everything to her and beg for forgiveness. But this was not that, and he knew the woman in front of him wasn’t the same as she was all those years ago.

“Mona, what happened?” he asked quietly.

She sighed. “Like I said, I’m not Mona.”

Suddenly, Bucky had had enough, and he could feel heat rise in him as he reached his wit’s end. “Your right hip,” he said firmly. “Show it to me.”

She had a birthmark there, Bucky remembered. It was shaped like an island, almost like Cuba, and he had been the one to point it out to her.

_“How did you not know you had this?” Bucky asked between laughs._

_“I dunno, who spends time looking at their own hip?” Mona replied, laughing along with him and contorting herself to examine it better._

_“I hereby declare this the Isle of Bucky,” he said dramatically, placing an imaginary flag on her birthmark._

_She rolled her eyes and gave him a kiss._

“I can show you a lot more than that,” she said now, toying with the strap of her dress.

“Just the hip,” Bucky said, crossing his arms against his chest.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Without breaking eye contact with him, she reached over and widened the slit of her dress until it exposed her whole leg, slowly lifting the hem until her right hip was visible, smooth, brown, and completely bare.

Bucky let out the breath he was holding, and he felt himself deflate under the weight of everything that had happened so far. He couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved. He dragged his eyes up to hers, willing himself to keep it together.

“Who are you?” he managed to ask.

She sat back up again and smirked. “I can be whoever you want me to be, baby.”

The air was too thick, and Bucky couldn’t find the words to say. After seeing the look on his face, she laughed and it sounded harsh and grating, despite the grin on her face.

“Oh no, look at you,” she said mockingly. “I hate to see you so sad. Is this what you were looking for?” She looked down at her still exposed hip, and Bucky’s gaze followed. He watched in amazement as her birthmark faded onto her skin, exactly as he remembered it.

“How did you…”

“I told you,” she said seriously. “I can be whoever you want me to be.” She ran her fingers through her hair, and the strands grew longer and longer until they reached the middle of her back. She stuck out her foot, and intricate black lines and patterns snaked up her leg and onto her arms and neck. Her hair shrank back until it just reached her shoulders, turning a neon green color, then pink, then yellow. Her eyes flashed from blue, to red, to amber, and back to brown, her fingernails matching every shade. The tattoos faded away, and her hair returned to the dark pixie cut it was in before. She cocked her head to the side and smiled at Bucky’s stunned silence. “Whoever you want.”

Before Bucky could react, a blood-curdling scream cut through the air from the hall. Bucky rushed to the door and looked out to see the woman who had accompanied the Secretary-General standing outside their door, pale as a ghost and trembling. She screamed again as others left their rooms to see what the commotion was about.

“H-h-he’s dead,” the woman wailed, sinking to her knees. Another woman rushed to her side and held her. “He’s not breathing, he’s dead,” and she dissolved into violent sobs.

“Poor thing,” Bucky heard from behind him. He turned and saw Mona standing, facing him. “Died of a heart attack. They call them ‘silent killers’ for a reason. Also, do you know how easy it is to switch out champagne bottles here?” Her lips curved up slightly, and realization hit Bucky like a truck.

“You did that,” he said simply.

She shrugged again. “Wouldn’t be my first this year.”

“Ross. That was you too,” he said.

“You’re smarter than you look,” she said, something sinister crossing her expression.

Just then, Bucky heard a groan from inside the bathroom. He yanked open the door to find the president of Finland bound and gagged in the tub, his head lolling to the side. Bucky went in and placed two fingers on his neck. There was a steady heartbeat despite his condition.

“You couldn’t possibly think I would actually sleep with him,” she said as Bucky stepped out again. Something in him snapped and he marched towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her against the wall.

“Who the fuck are you? I won’t ask again,” he growled, adrenaline surging through every part of him.

She looked at him, her chest heaving up and down, and Bucky saw the fear in her eyes. “You know who I am,” she said. Her hair grew again, this time descending in a forest of curls, the same ones he used to spend hours tangling his fingers in. It had an immediate effect on him, and he was somehow outside of himself, outside of logic. Bucky loosened his grip and tentatively reached up to touch the ends. He looked at her, and it could have been 2015 all over again, in a small town in Idaho, in a cramped studio apartment warmed by sunlight.

“I lied Bucky,” Mona said, her voice trembling. “I lied because they wanted me to lie,” tears welled up in her eyes and a fissure opened up in his chest.

“Mona, who?” he asked gently, cupping her face, already forgetting what happened moments ago. Mona was hurting, _his_ Mona, and nothing else mattered. “Mona, tell me.”

She just squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“Look at me. I’m here, no one is going to hurt you,” he promised, wiping at her cheeks. She opened her eyes again and clutched at the lapels of his suit.

“I need you,” she whispered.

“I’m here,” he whispered back.

She leaned forward until her lips skimmed his. Sparks burned across Bucky’s skin where he felt her lips, her breath. He ached for her, and the parts of him that had felt empty without her were full and bursting at the seams. She pulled back and examined his face once more before she dived forward and kissed him with a heated fervor that had Bucky’s head spinning. He let out an involuntary moan, and that only made her sink deeper, wrapping her arms tightly around him and sweeping her tongue against his. He sunk his hands into her hair, and she pushed him forward until they landed on the bed, her thighs straddling his hips. She pulled away again, and he almost whimpered with how much he needed her. She looked down at him with an angelic smile, her hair surrounding their faces as if to shield them from the world outside. Her fingers traced his jawline with unbearable gentleness until they came to rest on his lips.

“Close your eyes,” Mona told him softly.

He couldn’t though. He needed to see her, to memorize the lines of her face and the curve of her body against his just in case another nine years went by before he saw her again.

She chuckled at his hesitation. “Close your eyes for me, Bucky,” she told him again, brushing her hand through his hair.

“I missed you,” he breathed, and his heart constricted at the truth of it. He didn’t let himself feel it until now, and he felt a sense of overwhelming grief for all the time he spent away from her.

Her smile widened. “Close your eyes, my love.” Bucky let his eyes flutter shut, a sense of peace washing over him, lulling him into a calm he hadn’t known since that rainy day in May.

A sharp pain invaded the side of his neck, and his eyes shot open. Mona pinned his shoulder to the bed with a strength that she shouldn’t have had, and she pulled her hand away from his neck to reveal a now empty syringe. She tossed it over her shoulder and looked down at him with a cold and hardened gaze.

The edges of Bucky’s vision fizzled, and he could feel his body go rigid as excruciating pain tore through him, starting at his neck and spreading to the rest of him rapidly.

“You’re weak,” she said. Bucky’s vision continued to warp, but he didn’t miss the disgust on her face. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t fight, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He was on the edge of consciousness, but he heard her say something that ripped him to pieces even further.

“Goodnight, _Soldat._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUT DID YOU SEE THE TRAILERRRR???? MARCH 19 2021 BABYYYYYYYY


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